


The Potential For True Love

by storywriter8



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Age Adjustments, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Bozer is a Good Bro, Canon Crossover, Canon-Typical Violence, Death of Jack's Father, Death of a Father, Everyone is Shaking Their Heads at Jack, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Follows Canon Plot Mostly, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Jack Has Sisters, Jack is soft, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Hawaii Five-0 Crossover, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, One-Sided Attraction, Pining, Riley is a Good Bro, Saying Goodbye to a Loved One, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Strangers to Friends, Thoughts of Self-harm, mentions of abuse, more tags to come, rated T for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-01-06 09:38:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18385829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storywriter8/pseuds/storywriter8
Summary: Jack never wanted a soulmate, but fate had different plans for him in the form of a reckless blond bomb tech. Now Jack will do anything to stay by MacGyver’s side. If that means watching him be happy with someone else, then so be it. After all, a soulmate is only the potential for true love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So much would be changed if I owned MacGyver, but I don't.

“No!” Jack Dalton hollered at the phone in his hand. “Nonononono!”

“I heard you the first time.” Steve McGarrett muttered over the line.

Jack stopped pacing a took a breath. “There are three things in this world that are never ever gonna change. Texas is the greatest place on earth, real men cry, and that I will Never allow a soulmate to mark me up! Just cause you happen to find the love of your life in an angry blonde guy does not give you the right to start tellin’ me how to live!”

His friend’s sigh crackled across the line. “So to sum up, your work-life sucks, your too busy to have a social life, and you won't allow yourself to even consider a love life! The only thing left is home life so how's that going?”

Jack fell silent, pretending the jolting in his gut was just the airplane turbulence. 

Another sigh echoed across the line. “Jack, I'm so sorry.” 

Jack flinched and shoved his tumbling emotions back under his usual bravado. “Sorry! What the hell are you talkin’ about! My old man is going to be just fine, you'll see. He's had worse and come back kickin!” 

Steve's response was lost in the crackle of static across the line. 

Jack glace the satphone and slapped it with a gloved hand. “Come on you piece of shit! It's only 7000 miles!”

The crackling slowly died giving way to Steve calling out Jack's name.

“Yeah yeah, I'm here, you'd think they'd make these dodads work for long distances.” Jack grumbled half joking. 

Steve's far away snort gave Jack the largest portion of a smile he'd had in a long time.

Said partial smile was quickly dashed by the CIA tech making his way from hand hold to hand hold down the plane to Jack. “We're entering the mission area now, all non-essential transmissions must be cut off!” 

“Gimme a minute wouldja.” Jack grumbled more to himself then the tech

“Now!” The tech shouted back.

“Alright! I heard you!” Jack hollered, glaring at the tech who continued to hover. “Hey man, I gotta go. The ball and chain is callin’”

“We are not done talking about this!” Steve snapped over the line. “Ring me when you’re back stateside, and stop calling your boss that!”

Jack hung up the phone and waved it with a curled lip at the tech. The tech continued to glare but retreated, leaving him alone.

Through half lidded eyes Jack watched through the plane’s window as the moonlight reflect off of the miles of sand passing underneath. “This is gunna suck.”

-

The mission had been a clusterfuck from touchdown to exfil. At least this time it hadn't been entirely Jack's fault. Faulty information had lead him and his fellow CIA agents down two dead ends and three ambushes before they finally found their target thanks to a group of army boys sweeping the small town the target had been hiding in. Jack's team managed to infiltrate the town, capture the target and retreat to a army base a few miles away without much more trouble. 

At least, that was what Jack was trying to explain.

“This mission was supposed to take two days not two weeks!” Matty Webber shrieked over the satphone in Jack's hand. 

Jack massaged his forehead and tried again. “The Intel-"

“Don't talk to me about the Intel!” Matty shouted back. “A bunch of army brats and their EOD tech did your job for you in a quarter of the time! This is your fourth screw up since Chechnya and I am holding you personally responsible!” 

Jack sighed. It was useless to argue with Matty at this point in her anger. All he could do now was wait for her to stop screaming and try and explain himself in person back at Langley. 

Matty continued to take out her anger on Jack's ear as two Hummers pulled into the camp. 

Jack smiled as he spotted the army team that had helped him with his mission. The smile quickly faded as one of the men began shouted at and shoving another. 

“Woah woah woah, slow your roll there kemosabe!” Jack yelled shoving himself between the shouting men. 

“You left him on purpose!” The younger soldier shouted, pointing at his commanding officer. “I know you did! You left him to die!”

The commander shoved himself away, rage twisting his feature. “I was following orders! It's not my fault he never listens!” 

Jack looked back and forth between the commander and his men who had gathered behind the younger solder.

“The hell is going on!” Jack demanded.

“That man you took.” Another soldier said, “He had friends and they took over the town. We got orders to leave and the Sargent was supposed to find our EOD tech but he didn't. He just left. The kid is as good as dead now.”

Jack stared at the soldier, a bitter anger boiling up in his gut. 

“I was following orders!” The Sargent yelled again. 

There was a sickening crack as Jack's fist connected with the man's jaw. Unfazed by the man laid out at his feet, Jack put the phone back to his ear. “Yeah, Matty, change of plans.”

“Absolutely not Dalton!” Matty yelled over the line.

Jack shrugged out of his bulky bullet proof vest and grabbed a tunic and scarf off of a nearby crate. “Then consider this my resignation letter.” Matty tried to interrupted but Jack had heard enough. “If I make it back alive I'll be sure to send you one in writing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to wait to post this since I've been so slow in writing it, but hopefully y'all will motivate me.
> 
> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


	2. Chapter 2

To say the town was swimming with unfriendlies was an understatement. It was drowning in them. 

Jack had been forced to wait till sundown to sneak back in and was now moving from building to building to avoid the still full streets. Sticking his head out of a window, Jack made sure the alleyway was clear before climbing out and into the next building. 

He stopped halfway to the third floor when the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. The floorboards above him creaked again. Jack took a breath and tugged his scarf up to cover his face. He readied the assault rifle against his shoulder but hoped he wouldn't have to use it and draw everyone to him with the noise and flash. 

Maybe he should have kept his pistol’s silencer instead of throwing it at the head of one of his handlers as he peeled out of the army base on a hot wired Jeep. Too late now. 

Jack picked his way to the top of the stairs and across the half collapsed and abandoned room toward the next room’s doorway that had a fluttering cloth hanging across it. Jack couldn't hear the creaking anymore but the click of a landmine arming itself beneath his feet came in loud and clear. 

The cloth was ripped away and a masked man stormed through, pistol pointing straight at Jack. The man shouted something is Arabic, which Jack was now regretting skipping in favor of Mandarin which hadn't stuck with him anyways, and yanked his riffle away. 

Throwing caution to the wind, cause why not at this point, Jack answered back in the only Arabic phrase he knew. Roughly translated it meant “I'm important, let me go or die.”

The man stared at him for a moment, head tilted, then reached out and wrenched the scarf away from Jack's face. 

“So much for incognito.” Jack muttered squaring his shoulders, mind racing for a way out of this frankly, deadly situation.

The scarf slipped from the man's fingers as he reached for his own covering. Sandy blond hair seemed to glitter in the moonlight that streamed through the bullet holes in the buildings walls as the mask fell away revealing the pale, thin features of a young Westerner. 

Jack's eyebrows shot up as he and the boy stared at each other. “Private Macgyver?” He hazarded. 

The guns clatter to the ground at the boy lunged forward, crashing into Jack and hugging him tightly while taking great shaking breaths. 

“Dude! Bomb!” Jack yelped, trying hard not to stumble backwards. 

The boy laughed into Jack's shirt, a tad hysterical. “They left and I thought, oh god I thought.”

Jack rubbed his gloved hands across the boy’s back. “Hey, hey, I got you, and I don't mean to be rude or anythin’ but we're standin’ on a landmine so if you have a plan for us to not die now, I can work on us not dyin’ on the way out of this hell hole.”

The boy started and pulled away shakily. “Oh right, it's a dud.”

Jack stared at him. “I'm standin’ on a fake bomb?”

“Technically you’re standing on part of a pen and some chewing gum.”

Jack dropped to his hands and knees and, sure enough, saw the noise maker carefully positions beneath the board he had stepped on. “That might be the coolest thing I've ever seen.” he said, standing back up and holding out a gloved hand. “Jack.”

The boy took Jack's hand in a scarred, dirty, bare palm. “Mac.”

-

It became abundantly clear that they weren't going to make it two blocks, much less half a city, with Mac in the shape he was. Fear had pushed the young EOD tech into a corner filled with booby traps and no sleep for the last 48 hours. So Jack laid down the law, sleep first then escape. 

Or, as he had more tactfully put, “Evidence shows that I am incapable of walkin’ across an uneven floor without standin’ on an explosive, so I'd much rather have the bomb expert not sleep deprived.” 

Mac had been too tired to argue and happily surrendered his pistol to Jack, who then had to give the young soldier the Don't Threaten Heavily Armed People With Unloaded Gun And Just Hope They Don't Call Your Bluff lecture. Mac had fallen asleep halfway through with a sweet little smile on his cracked lips and his bare hands curled under his head. 

Jack was getting the unsettling feeling that this kid was going to be the death of him. 

These days, and in these professions, covering your hands was almost mandatory. A soul bond could only form by hand to hand contact and enough tragedy had occurred during the Cold War from bonded enemies that most soldiers and spies wore gloves at all times. 

But here was Mac, flaunted the skin of his hand in the middle of an active shooting zone and, judging from the scars and calluses covering his fingers, a long time before that too.

Jack had more reason then most to avoid forming a bond but looking at the innocent freedom of private MacGyver, he began to wonder. It made him think of Sarah and what made him leave her. For two years they had fought side by side, loving every second. For Jack that had been enough, but Sarah wanted more. She convinced him to take off the gloves and the wave of relief when no mark appeared had told Jack everything he needed to know.

A beam of sunlight flickered through a hole in the wall and flashed into Jack's eyes. Day light would make it much harder to leave the city behind but staying put would be worse.

“Come on bubba, up and at ‘em.” Jack murmured, nudging Mac's shoulder with the toe of his boot.

Mac started awake then gave a soft laugh as he fell back.

“What?” Jack asked, unable to see any humor in their situation.

Mac glanced at him, smiling. “I just never thought that Texan would be the most comforting accent I'd ever hear.”

“Don't know why that's surprisin’.” Jack hummed, making his accent even thicker. “It's the greatest place on earth after all.” The painful lump that fitted itself into Jack's chest every time he spoke of home since his father had fallen ill, melted at the light that filled the young EOD tech’s eyes and smile.

They packed up, Jack taking stock of their woefully small stock of amo and Mac shoving what looked like a lot of junk into his pockets and knapsack.

When asked, the EOD tech just smiled and said. “You never know when a rusted tin can or half a bag of fertilizer will come in handy.”

The streets were blessedly quiet compared to the day before but they took their time just in case.

“Are you really from Texas?” Mac whispered, bending slightly to snatch a crumpled piece of newspaper from the ground without stopping. 

Jack spared a moment to raise an eyebrow at the younger man.

“Talking helps me think.” The EOD tech muttered.

Shrugging, Jack started walking again. “Yes I am. Born and raised on a little old piece of heaven, go back every year for Thanksgivin’ and Christmas. Well, when work doesn't get in the way. You?”

“LA.” Mac murmured, diverting slightly to grab an empty plastic bottle from a trash can.

“Sun, surf, starlets and Bruce Willis. I approve.” Jack said with a smile

“More like textbooks and snow, I was in MIT for the past few years before coming out here.” Mac said with a shrug, twisting several pieces of wire between his fingers.

Jack stumbled in shock. “You dropped out of MIT to play with bombs in the sand?”

“Well when you put it that way it sounds bad, but yeah. It was either try and visualize nine-dimensional polytopes, or save soldiers’ lives. Guess which one won.” Mac murmured, giving his companion a half smile.

“Ploy-whats?” Jack asked with a blank stare.

Mac giggled and Jack knew he was in trouble. How dare this guy be drop dead gorgeous and beyond selfless to boot. Oh yeah, he was definitely in trouble.

Jack hopped over a low wall and rounding the corner and grinning as he recognized the street “Well damn we might just make it!” Gagging he jerked back behind the wall, flinging an arm out to catch Mac and shove him back.

“You jinxed us didn't you!” Mac hissed.

Jack put on his best incredulous face and pressed a gloved hand to his heart mouthing “Me?”

“Yes you!” Mac mouthed back.

Shrugging, Jack stared off into spare. “Oh it's not that bad really, see that big old warehouse door?”

Squeezing around the older man, Mac peeked past the corner. “The one that sixteen armed wackos are leaning against?”

“That's the one. Our ride is behind it.” Jack said, smiling winningly.

Mac’s frown deepened as his eyes flicked across the scene before him before getting a far away look as his eyebrows raised.

“You got a plan don't you.” Jack murmured, admiring this new look.

Mac grinned and began rifling through his knapsack. “I think I do.”

Frowning, Jack tried to quell the unease that was seeping into his stomach at that crazed smile. “I’m gunna hate it aren't I?”

The wild eyed EOD tech stuck a paperclip between his teeth and slapped Jack on his arm. “More than likely, but on the up-side, you’ll definitely know when to run.” 

Jack sighed, this kid was definitely going to be the death of him. Bright blue eyes flashing with edged excitement as his long fingers worked metal, plastic and paper into something completely new. Well, there were worse ways to die.

“Ok, I got your back.” Jack said solemnly.

Mac paused in his fiddling and looked up into the older man’s eyes, then nodded and vanished back down the street they had come from.

The next few minutes were one of the purest forms of torture that Jack had even been subjected to. What if Mac was spotted, what if his plan failed, what if his plan succeeded, what if they made it back. That last one threw Jack for a loop. He had effectively burned himself from the life he had been living ever since the CIA had pulled him out of his short lived career as a Delta. No clandestine agency would touch him with a ten foot cattle prod.

Jacks depressed musings were cut short as the first explosion went off. Dust and bits of brick went flying from an alley off to Jack’s left, immediately drawing the gunmen’s attention. Six peeled off to investigate, guns blazing just as the second explosion, from the opposite direction, went off. Seven more gunmen ran off leaving only three to stand in front of the warehouse door. 

Jack readied himself to fight when the warehouse door itself exploded outward, covering the remaining men in rubble. Giving a great whoop, Jack ran forward. “That's how you do it baby!”

Slapping the hood of the Jeep, Jack looked around for Mac. He spotted him, crumpled on the floor a few feet away from the crater that had been the door. 

Leaping across the space, Jack fell to his knees beside his new friend. “Nononono, don't you do this.” He whispered, frantically tugging at the scarf around Mac’s neck, trying to find a pulse. Pressing his fingers against the still man’s neck, Jack cursed. He couldn't feel anything. Panicking, now he tore at his glove with his teeth, ripping it off and checking Mac’s wrist.

It happened in a instant. Like a glass orb shattering inside his chest and letting out the most beautiful light no one had ever seen to shine through every cell in his body. 

Jack gasped as the feeling of his soulmark settling flooded through him alongside the soft beat of a pulse against his bare fingers. Forcing his unresponsive body to let go, Jack turned his hand over and stared at his own wrist. Smooth silver line, carefully twisted into the shape of a paperclip sat across his own pulse point, sending out more emotions than Jack dared to sort through.

Shouts in Arabic pulled Jack to his more pressing problems. Pulling the unconscious EOD tech’s arm over his shoulder, Jack managed to load them both into the Jeep and was soon out the back of the warehouse and speeding away from the town.

The sun was setting behind them, army base only a few miles out, when Mac finally stirred, groaning and holding the back of his head.

“Did you seriously make three bombs out of random crap you picked up off the ground?” Jack called over the road noise.

Mac laughed and sat up. “That and plastique from a bomb I dismantled last week two streets over.”

Jack shook his head. “Next time, warn me. How the head?”

Shrugging, Mac ran a hand through his hair. “Doesn't feel like a concussion.”

“Feel anythin’ else?” Jack asked awkwardly, waving a now bare hand and pointedly not looking at Mac.

The EOD tech did a mental check, going over every part of his body. “No? I feel fine?”

“Ok.” Jack muttered, nodding and frowning. “Good, yeah, ok.”

Narrowing his eyes, Mac opened his mouth to question the strange behavior but was interrupted as they drove into the army base. The cheers of his teammates ringing in his ears, he let himself be pulled from the car and into the medical tent to be fussed over.

Jack watched Mac go with a fast growing fondness that he quickly shoved down. It was just the soulmark trying to force them together. Thankfully, Mac didn't seem to notice that he had bonded while he was unconscious, but who knew how long that would last. 

A soldier ran up and saluted to Jack before he could wonder what the hell he was supposed to do now. “Phone for you sir.”

Jack sighed, it was probably Matty with another heaping helping of ‘the fuck were you thinking Dalton!’

Mac had gotten off with a light scolding and no concussion this time, and after being instructed to take a week off, wandered off to find his savor. With his tour nearly over, Mac had to start thinking about what to do next and following the stranger who had run headlong into hell just on the off chance that some random EOD was still alive, seemed like a good start. 

Mac found Jack sitting in the communications tent, a satphone held loosely in his fingers. He was staring at the wall of the tent looking completely lost.

Crossing to his side in two short strides, Mac gently rested a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

Tears spilled over Jack’s lashes at his touch. “My dad’s gonna die and I’m stuck here.” He told the wall.

The cogs of Mac’s brain began turning furiously as electricity ran up and down his spine, stubbornly refusing to let this be true. “Come on.” Mac grunted, dragging Jack to his feet and out of the tent. “I’ve got a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooo! I don't have any more pre-written so don't expect an update for a while
> 
> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta for these so y'all will just have to suffer~
> 
> Yes, I did in fact make myself cry writing this.

Dodging soldiers and pulling Jack along, Mac managed to make it to the command tent. Telling Jack to stay he slipped in and quickly stepped up to his commander.

“Aren't you supposed to be on med leave?” the commander grumbled, not looking up from his computer screen.

“Let me fly to Texas and ill re-up.” Mac said, a strange feeling of calm settling over him as he gave his life away.

The commander glance up at that and slowly straightened. “You'd go back to work under the sergeant,” he said, “Are you sure?”

Mac nodded, more sure then he had been about anything in his entire life.

Jack was still staring straight ahead when the blond emerged but allowed himself to be pulled, pushed and in general steered by his new friend and soulmate without so much as a question. When they had finally stopped moving and were seated in semi-comfortable seats, the older man promptly passed out on Mac’s shoulder. 

It felt like only moments later that the blond was shaking Jack awake to the interior of a commercial jet and a voice over the intercom welcoming the passengers to Austin, Texas.

Stepping out onto the tarmac with the lingering warmed of late spring hanging in the air along side the faint smell of rain was more than enough to bring the Texan back to tears. Grateful for the darkness 3 am local time awarded, Jack threw the duffel, he didn't remember packing, over his shoulder and followed Mac in silence as he tried to swallow the lump in his throat. Inside the terminal was nearly deserted and the quiet tap of their shoes echoing through the airport gates felt painfully like the ticking of a clock, winding tighter and tighter inside Jack’s chest

“Don't even think about it.” Mac called as they finally emerged from the airport and walked towards their rental car. “You are not driving.”

Jack let his head loll to over to give Mac a pout as he let his duffel drag on the ground and tugged at the locked driver side door.

The blond shook his head and waved the set of keys he had retrieved from the valet and used to lock Jack out before he could claim the driver's seat. “Friends don't let friends drive emotionally compromised.”

The older man pouted some more but turned and, still dragging his duffel, walked to the passenger side and clambered inside as his friend finally unlocked the car.

“Alright, where are we going?” Mac asked as they pulled out and onto the freeway.

Stifling a yawn, Jack waved towards the appropriate road sign. “Home is about ten miles outside Oatmeal.”

Mac couldn't help it, his eyebrows climbed sky high as he bit his lip to keep from grinning like a completely fool. “Oatmeal?” he asked, desperately trying to keep the giggle out of his voice

Jack side eyed his companion. “It is both a delicious food and the birth place of your very own Jack Dalton. You gotta problem with that?”

A ridiculous grin now plastered across his face, Mac pulled onto the freeway shaking his head. “No, Sir.”

The semi awkward silence lasted about five minutes before both men were singing along with the 80s pop hits blaring from the radio at the tops of their lungs as the sun slowly began rising. Mac nearly crashed the car from laughing at the look of absolute horror on Jack’s face upon hearing that he hadn't seen Die Hard before. The next hour was spent ranking every Bruce Willis movie and arguing whether the zombie apocalypse or robot apocalypse was more likely to happen and which Harrison Ford character you would want on your side in such an event.

The exit sign for Oatmeal brought both men back to the sobering reason for their road trip and spent the rest of the drive with the only sounds of Jack’s direction breaking the silence.

Turning down the gravel road, jack learned forward to catch his first glimpse of home. Through the thick trunks of the huge oak trees that lined the road, the red and white painted farmhouse looked just as he remembered, bathed in the morning sunlight; right down to the old hound down asleep next to the porch swing.

By the time they were pulling up a tired looking woman was pushing the screen door open and peering out.

“Jackie?” she gasped, mouth agape as Jack skipped up the bottom two steps.

Freezing momentarily with his heart in his throat, Jack steadied himself against the porch railing. “Is he?”

Shaking herself out of her shock, Jack’s oldest sister Claire quickly stepped aside and ushered the both of them in. “No, no he’s still with us. But you were stuck in Afghanistan yesterday, how on earth did you get here so fast?”

Jack hummed vaguely and waved his hands while Mac gave her a cheeky little smile and shrugged as they both passed her by.

Claire gave both men her best ‘I'll beat the truth out of you later’ look.

Inside the farm house the quiet hum of morning activity ground to a sudden halt as Mac and Jack stepped into the huge kitchen that connected directly with the dining room. 

“Uncle Jack!” shrieked the twins, pulling away from their open mouthed mother, and the youngest of Jack’s sisters, Phoebe to hug their uncle around his middle.

The middle sister Samantha grinned as her wife handed her a twenty and her adopted son, in a far more cool manor better suited to a seventeen year old, went in for a side hug.

“Look at you lot! When the heck did y'all get so darn tall?” Jack asked, chuckling and ruffling the heads of his nephew and nieces.

“Jackie?” Jack’s mother murmured as she stepped down from the last step of the stairs that lead to the second floor, staring at her son.

One look at his mother and Jack felt like he was a kid again, running home in tears to find comfort in her arms. He cross the floor in an instant, wrapping his arms around her and burying his damp cheeks into the crook of her neck.

“You made it,” she murmured in his ear, gently pulling away to wipe away his tears. 

Jack nodded, taking his mother’s hands and gently running his thumb across the daisies that patterned her skin. He had always loved his parents soulmarks, the bright warmth that the pretty little flowers always shone, even in the darkest of times.

“How?” his mother asked, dropping into her no nonsense tone as she eyed the blond stranger awkwardly trying not to look at anything in particular.

Chuckling slightly, Jack turned back to smile at Mac. “I'll let you know when I find out.”

Mac offered a meek shrug and half smile.

Jack’s mother gave each man a critical look before nodded in that firm decisive way that told Jack not to even try and argue with whatever she would say next. “Go on then, both of you.” she murmured, stepping aside and waving towards the stairs.

Mac opened his mouth to politely decline but closed it again at the slight shake of Jack’s head. Instead he followed his friend up the stairs and down the hall to a door at the end.

Jack’s father’s face light up as his son walked through the door. The small bedroom was filled with the early morning light, turning the old man’s gray hair to pure silver where he sat propped up in bed, fingers curled into a thick hand sewn quilt.

“Hey pops.” Jack murmured, slipping into the room to the empty chair beside the bed.

His father shook his head in wonder, smile still wide. “I was beginnin’ to wonder where the hell you’d got to.”

Chuckling, Jack glanced at Mac hovering uncertainty in the doorway. “It's a long story.”

“I've got time,” his father said, gently tapping a fist against his son’s shoulder. “Now mind your manors and introduce your friend.”

“Jack Dalton Senior, Private Macgyver.” Jack murmured, gesturing to his father and his friend. “Only EOD tech I’ve ever seen to make a bomb out of chewin’ gum and shoe laces.”

“Just Mac,” the blond murmured, shaking the old man’s proffered hand. “And to be fair, the gum was just for the detonator.”

As his father gave a suitably impressed whistle, Jack shook his head and looked at his soulmate with something akin to wonder. “Either way, you saved my ass.”

Blushing slightly, Mac quickly shook his head. “Don’t believe a word he says, at most it was a mutual saving of asses. If you hadn't come looking for me in the first place-- is that a ham radio?” Mac asked, losing his train of thought completely as his eye locked on to the black box sitting on the desk under a open window. “I love taking those apart!”

Jack smiled fondly and shook his head again as the blond walked over and began turning the radio over in his bare hands.

“And pray tell, what would you put it back together as?” Jack’s father asked, chuckling.

“Last time I made a metal detector to find a bomb in a wall.” Mac said, growing more and more excited. “But if I had some tinfoil I could turn it into a signal jammer. Or! Or I could turn it into an electromagnetic pulse projector!”

Mac broke off as both men started to laugh. Blushing, he gently replaced the radio and grinned sheepishly. “We don't need a EMP gun, yeah, I’m uh, I’m going to go help your mom with breakfast.” 

Jack caught his friend’s hand, mouthing a thank you as he slipped out of the room.

“It's him isn't it?” his father asked, giving his son a pointed look.

Jack took a slow breath before nodded and turning his wrist up so the silver lines shone in the sunlight.

Both men watched the closed door for a long minute.

“He's a good kid, don't screw it up,” his father finally said

Whipping his head around, Jack opened his mouth to argue every little point he had been telling himself since the damn paperclip had appeared on his wrist.

“No, no you listen to me,” his father snapped, cutting Jack off before he could speak. “You have a chance at the most amazin’ thing the world has to offer you. Don't you dare throw it away just cause it broke bad for-” the old man was interrupted by a bough of coughing. He remained silent for a while after the coughing subsided, staring out the window.

“Will you promise me somethin’?” Jack’s father finally asked, turning his eyes back.

“Course I will.” Jack mumbled, a lump growing in his throat.

“Promise me, you won't let this,” he murmured, gently squeezing his son’s wrist, “be the reason you don't end up together. Let him pick, but don't push him away. Promise me you'll find the happiness I won’t be around to see.”

Jack nodded, biting his lip hard as his tears began to fall freely. “I promise,” he whispered.

His father smiled, that happy tired smile. “Good, now quit lookin’ so damn down, I ain’t gone yet and we’ve got some catchin’ up to do.”

Jack laughed at that, and tried to stop the flow of his tears. “I love you,” he murmured, shaking his head in fond exasperation.

Giving a long content sigh his father patted his hands gently. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was beginning to set as Jack stepped out of the house. Giving one last sniff and blinking rapidly, he straightened his shirt and his father’s dog tags that now rested against it. It had been hard to say goodbye, harder than anything he had ever had to do. But Jack hadn't broken and now he was stronger for it.

At least, that's what he was telling himself.

“Ok, ok” Jack murmured, double checking that the leather cuff, that he had traded his nephew for, was completely covering his soulmark before stepping off the porch. His shoes crunched on the gravel path before going silent as he turned off and into the grassy pastures that surrounded the old barn that was in desperate need of a new coat of red paint. The hip high grass tickled his finger tips while the low hanging sun left a soft warmth against the side of his face. 

The side door was open and Jack slipped in to be greeted with the cool smells of dust and hay. Sidestepping the farming equipment, that lay about in varying states of repair, he followed the clattering that he could only assume was Mac. The main doors were open, letting the warm gold glow of the sunset catch the wafts of dust kicked up by Jack’s feet as he rounded the old tractor and finally caught sight of his soulmate.

Mac was kneeling next to the open doors, sluicing his hair through the water pouring out of a rusted spigot. Straightening slightly and flipping his hair back, he continued to drag his fingers though the tangles.

With the sunlight reflecting off every drop of water falling from his flaxen locks, sliding down his bare back, Jack couldn't help but see the words. ‘I got your back’ in his own short sharp script running down the line of Mac’s spine. 

“Oh hey,” the blond called with a grin as he turned his head to inspect the ends of his hair.

“I thought that spigot was broken,” Jake said after swallowing hard.

“Yeah,” Mac called with a shrug as he stood up and retrieved his now grime smeared t-shirt. “I fixed it, and the hay lift, and I was working on the tractor when I managed to dump oil in my hair.”

Jack tilted his head with a half smile and took a couple more swaggering steps into the sunshine. “Seriously?”

“Well you know, idle hands and all.” Mac murmured, glancing away and shrugging. “You ok?”

“Yeah, ah, no. Not even a little bit.” Jack muttered, blinking rapidly again. “But, better, you know? Better that I got to say what I needed to say. Better that I got to tell him I loved him.”

The blond nodded as words failed the older man. “Yeah, I know the feeling.”

Jack started at that and looked a bit closer at his companion. “Your old man?”

“My mom,” Mac said, shaking his head and looking at his hands. “I was too young to really know what it all meant, but I knew enough to tell her I loved her.”

A heaviness hung in the air for a moment as the blond took a shaky breath and looked back up. “How's your mom holding up?”

Jack let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as a tear broke free and ran down his cheek. “Shes strong, real strong.”

He fell silent for a moment and slid his tongue across the backs of his teeth before continuing. “They weren't soulmates. Got matchin’ tattoos to cover up Momma’s mark after Pops rescued her from that abusive piece of shit that was supposedly her one and only. They fell in love, the real way, the right way.”

Cautiously glancing at Mac, Jack was pleasantly surprised at the small smile and understanding nod the blond gave him.

“After my mom died, my dad checked out. Started taking longer and longer business trips and then just didn't come back. Found out he ODed in some back alley in Florida a few years later,” he murmured, picking up a paperclip as he talked and carefully twisting its shape into something new.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said, eyes glued to the thin metal sliding between those calloused fingers.

Mac shrugged and retrieved his Swiss army knife and used its pliers to finish the small sculpture. “My grandfather took care of me after that and my best friend’s family practically adopted me. Those were some of the best years of my life. But, you know, I couldn't help but wonder if he would have stuck around if they hadn't been soulmates.”

Slipping the knife in his pocket, the blond held out what he had made.

Jack imagined that the small metal daisy was burning his fingers as he turned it this way and that.

“Anyway,” Mac muttered, glancing around himself and patting his pockets. “I'd better get packed.”

“You’re leavin’?” Jack asked in a voice that held just a bit too much emotion for his liking, thank you very much.

The blond sighed and awkwardly waved a hand. “I kind of re-upped to get us here.”

The older man’s mouth fall open but Mac rushed on before he could speak. “And I know how that looks but I was going to re-up anyways! At least this way I could do something good with it.”

As he watched the blushing blond, Jack felt himself on the edge of falling. He held tight for just a moment longer and then let go; let himself fall head over heels in love with Angus Macgyver. “One day,” he said, voice hard and thick with the love he could never dare to speak of. “I'm gonna to find a way to repay you.”

Mac glanced over his shoulder as he twirled an oil stained rag between his finger, with that teasing half smile and a halo of golden light. “Is that a threat?”

“Yeah.” Jack murmured, keeping his eyes locked on his soulmate. “It is.”

The blond hummed thoughtfully and walked backwards into the blinding light of the low hanging sun. “Well then, I look forward to you settling up.”

-

Hours later, Jack sat on the bottom step of the porch. Half of a biscuit hung from his fingers and his soulmate’s final wave goodbye from the car stuck in his mind.

“Are you gonna eat that?” Phoebe asked, knocking her shoulder into her younger brother as she sat down next to him.

Wordlessly, Jack handed the biscuit over as his other two sisters settled down on the steps as well.

“So when are you leavin’?” Samantha asked, leaning her side against the porch railing as Claire accepted half of the biscuit from Phoebe.

“Why would I be leavin’?” Jack asked, eyes still fixed on curve of the road that his soulmate had disappeared around. “I’m back where I belong.”

Claire snorted and smacked the back of Jack’s head for good measure. “You know damn well where you belong is at the side of that man, who you love, makin’ sure he doesn't get shot. So save us all some damn time and just get already!”

Shoving himself up and away from the porch, Jack pressed his fingers together and fought to keep himself from completely falling apart. “I’m not- You don't know what I’ve- It's not like I can just-”

Failing completely to convey the pain and uncertainty that constricted his chest, Jack let his hands fall as he hung his head and finally muttered brokenly. “He deserves better.”

The soft creak of the screen door brought Jack’s watery eyes up as his mother walked up to him and cupped his face in her hands. “He deserves someone who wants better for him. And I know no one better than you.”

Taking a slow deep breath, Jack nodded. Then nodded again, taking his mother's hands and pressing a kiss to the backs of the daisies that colored them. Letting go, he ran up the stairs into the house and down the hall to his room. Shoving what little he had unpacked back into his duffel with one hand, Jack used the other speed dial McGarrett, quietly pleading for him to pick up, damn it.

“How did you get this number?” Steve’s voice growled across the line.

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation, Jack glared skyward. “You must stop answerin’ the phone like that.”

His friend’s laugh crackled across the line. “Whatever it takes to get rid of telemarketers. Pray tell why the hell are you interrupting my candle lit dinner for two?”

“I need a favor.” Jack said in a rush, too afraid of talking himself out of it to make small talk.

A soft snort echoed across the line. “You owe me like six favors already, what makes you think-”

“You were right,” Jack snapped, cutting Steve off. “About soulmates, about everythin’. And he's headed back to hell and I'm stuck here.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and for one terrifying moment Jack thought that his old friend wouldn't help.

“What do you need me to do?”

Tears pricked at the corners of Jack's eyes as he told Steve his plan.

-

It had only been two days since Mac had said goodbye to the man who had risked everything to save his life. 

Two days of pure hell. 

Back in the sandbox with all his gear loaded into the Hummer, waiting for his CO to show up, the blond closed his eyes and pictured that last evening with Jack. Sitting on the porch eating homemade biscuits piled high with honey and butter while watching one last Texas sunset paint the sky a thousand different colors. 

Even in an active shooting zone, Mac had felt more at peace with older man at his side then he had since his mother had died, leaving his father to abandon him. A small smile settled on Mac’s lips as he let himself revel in the memory of Jack, so engrossed that he could almost hear his voice.

“Hey! Head out of the clouds blondy, we gotta go.”

Mac’s eyes snapped open and he stared open mouthed at Jack, decked out in tac gear and grinning like a fool.

“Said I’d repay you,” Jack said, tugging the Hummer’s door open and climbing inside.

For all his smarts, Mac was finding very difficult to find enough words to string a sentence together to ask his friend just what the ever living fuck was going on. In the end he settled for waving his arms about in a confused manor.

“Look,” Jack said, growing serious and pointing a finger at the blond. “There are three things in this world that are never ever gonna change. Texas is the greatest place on earth, real men cry, and I got your back.”

Warmth spread out like syrup from the center of Mac’s back at the older man’s words. “Fair enough,” he murmured as he started the engine. 

“I got a new one for you,” Jack called over the noise, “Terminator, Agent Smith or Dracula. Great British Baking Show finale.”

Mac snorted and shifted the Hummer into gear. “Dracula, hands down.”

“See you’d think that, but my main man Smith knows how to make one hell of a steak.” Jack countered as they pulled out of camp and headed back into hell, side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning. I don't have a beta for this, or the patience to read my own writing more then once and not throw it into an open fire.

Mac and Jack. 

they counted the days by the number of successful bomb disposals, by the successful trips out and back safe to camp. They became inseparable, if you ever needed one then you better look for the other. Leaning on each other as one finished the other’s dumb joke, that only they would laugh at, before highfiveing over their heads.

Side by side they made it through hell and out the other side with only a few scars to brag about. Side by side they walked through the airport terminal, duffels over their shoulders, until their paths finally split.

“I guess this is it,” Mac murmured, slowing to a stop and looking down at his boarding pass to LA.

“I guess so,” Jack sighed, twisting his boarding pass to Dallas between his fingers.

Trying hard to shove down the twist of pain in his chest at the thought of losing one of his dearest friends, the blond put on his best happy face. “Hey, you get to go back to the greatest place on earth!”

Jack flinched, keeping his eyes lowered and nodding half hardheartedly.

Mac opened his mouth, about to ask what was wrong, when a realization came crashing down on him. Texas may be the greatest place on earth but it was now the place where Jack’s dad had died. The bitter sweetness of his own home town still haunted Mac to this day and even years after his mother’s passing, he still couldn't bear to return. Lord only knew how bad it must feel for Jack.

Thinking quickly, Mac flung up a hand to smack himself on the forehead. “Wait! What am I thinking? You can't go back to Texas yet!”

Jack finally looked up, a puzzled look replacing his sadness. “I cant?”

“You have to come to LA first, Bozer would kill me if he didn't get to meet you after all the emails I sent him of the crap we’ve gotten into together,” Mac called, waving his friend’s boarding pass as he walked towards a service desk.

“Well I would like to meet the guy who thinks pastrami is a Christmas food,” Jack murmured, breathing a sigh of relief. He had been dreading leaving Mac for weeks now that he had no good reason to follow the blond now that their deployment was over. The weight of leaving the love of his life slowly lifted as the blond slap Jack’s boarding pass onto the customer service desk.

It took a little finagling but in less than an hour they were seated side by side on a plane bound for LA. With the armrest up and Mac’s legs thrown over Jack's lap, they quickly descended into an argument over which horror movie villain you would rather have lunch with. Mac was trying to defend his snap decision of Hannibal Lecter with Jack stuck between Norman Bates, cause he only goes for girls man, and Jack Nicholson; who the soldier was trying to justify counted because of the sheer number of nut jobs the man had portrayed.

“Having lunch with someone clearly indicates that you, yourself, would not become the lunch and the fascinating dichotomy of psychotic psychiatrist is more than enough reason to risk it either way!” Mac insisted as he accepted the last complimentary pretzel from his friend.

A forcefully polite cough had both men turning to see a stewardess with a thin smile glaring pointedly at them. “We will be landing soon.”

“This isn't over,” Mac muttered, pointing a finger at Jack but moving his legs down.

Snorting to cover then faint whimper he let out at losing the weight and warmth, Jack put his seat back tray up. “Hell no it ain’t, cause I'm right.”

The argument did continue, through landing, through the gate and through baggage claim. A shout finally brought it to an end as an enthusiastic Wilt Bozer came running full tilt at Mac. Their laughter echoed around the airport entrance but was ignored with one look at the army camo the two men were still wearing.

“Look at you man!” Bozer crowed, pulling back slightly to get a good look at his best friend. “The war hero returned home at last. You know, I thought you'd be tanner.”

Mac snorted and shoved playfully at his friend.

“Ohhh! Oh is this Jack!?” Bozer asked, whipping his head back and forth between the men and pointing at Jack. “The Jack?”

“The one and only,” Jack said, disguising his nerves under his usual bravado and doing a carefree turn to offer Bozer the full Jack experience.

“Get over here man, I gotta thank you for watching my brother’s back,” Bozer said, shaking his head at Jack and holding out the arm that wasn't still looped around Mac’s waist. 

Chuckling, Jack let himself be pulled into the group hug, one arm around Bozer’s shoulders, one around just slightly tighter around Mac’s.

Giving both men a squeeze, Bozer let out a happy little sigh, stared off into space and adopting his British accent. “My boys are home.”

Dropping the accent and pulling away he did a little hop skip and waved to the two soldiers. “Right come on! I am not carrying those rock sacks, but burgers are on Chef Boz!”

Hefting their heavy duffels both soldiers followed, Jack picking up the pace at the mention of food. “First day in LA and I already get to have Bozer’s Best Burger? Hell yeah man! Best trip ever!”

-

Standing by the side of a fire pit, over looking quite possibly one of the best views in all of LA, Jack couldn't help but pose a question he never had reason to ask before. “Hey Mac?”

Mac emerged, naked from the waist up and holding a t-shirt in one hand and two beers in the other. “Yeah?”

Taking just a moment to admire what really was the best view in all of LA before that blasted shirt ruined it, Jack pursed his lips and asked. “Are you rich?”

Laughing, the blond shook his head. “This was my grandfather’s, he paid off the mortgage and now all Bozer and I have to do is keep up with the taxes. Which, in case you were wondering, are horrendous.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully, still side eyeing shirtless Mac, who had set the beers down and was sadly getting ready to put on the pre-mentioned t-shirt.

“You sure you don't want help?” Mac yelled over his shoulder as he turned the fabric over in his hands to find the bottom.

Bozer snorted loudly form inside the house, his voice growing louder and he approached. “Unless you somehow managed to spend the last two years at the Cordon Bleu without telling me you are still not allowed anywhere near the kitch- Oh my god.” Bozer said from the doorway, staring at Mac’s back. 

“Hey Boze can I talk to you for a sec?” Jack shouted, leaping across the deck towards the open mouthed man.

“Oh my god!” Bozer said again as Jack seized his shirt and dragged him back in doors.

Mac raised an eyebrow at his strange friends before shrugging and tugging his shirt on to cover the words running down the center of his back.

“Oh my god!” Bozer shouted as Jack dragged him away and tried to shush him. “Mac has a soulmate!”

“I know!” Jack yelled back.

“You know!” Bozer shrieked.

“Yes I know but Mac doesn’t know so you gotta stop screamin’!” Jack shouted, shaking Bozer by his shoulders.

“How the hell does Mac not know!” Bozer shouted, waving his hand and ignoring the request to stop screaming.

“Because I didn't tell him!” the older man yelled back.

That really got Bozer’s attention and he narrowed his eyes. “Explain. Now.” he said, finally lowering his voice down to terror inducing growl.

Jack swallowed, fully appreciating the kind of pain the shorter man seemed ready, willing and able to dish out if he didn't like the answer he got. “He was unconscious, didn't realize it happened and I didn't tell him.”

“Why didn't you tell him!” Bozer hissed, growing more angry by the second.

“Because he deserves to find love! Not have it shoved on him!” Jack blurted out, a desperate look in his eyes.

Bozer pulled back slightly, eyeing the soldier unconsciously rub his fingers over the leather cuff covering his wrist. “I honestly cant tell if you are That Dumb, or just that far gone on my best friend.”

A breathless laugh slipped past the old soldier’s lips. “Whats that old sayin’, love makes you stupid?”

“Everything ok?” Mac asked, hanging from into the room by one hand on the door frame, making his friends jump.

Jack shot one last pleading look at Bozer as he nodded his head. “Oh yeah, I just uh, I just realized I get to break out the plaster and add a new head mold to my collection.”

Taken completely by surprise by Bozer’s bluff, Jack completely failed at playing along. “Your what now?”

Mac laughed, took another sip of his beer, and levered himself back out the door, calling as he left. “Go easy on him Boze.”

Letting out a breath, Jack closed his eyes. “Thank you.”

Shooting the soldier a glare, Bozer held up one threatening finger. “You hurt my brother and they wont find your body.”

Jack inclined his head and quietly retreated to the deck.

Mac had sat down, watching the fire and picking at the label of his beer bottle. He glanced up as Jack sat next to him, retrieving the other bottle at his feet and offered it to the older man. “Beer and Bruce Willis?” 

Jack considered the bottle for a moment and offered his soulmate a sheepish smile. “Don’t suppose I could get a snuggie and Princess Diaries instead?”

Mac’s eyebrows shot up for a moment before his smile widened into a soft laugh. He nodded, setting the beer aside. “You know, that sounds really nice right about now. But I feel I must warn you, Bozer does know all of the word to the Genovia national anthem and he will cry during the coronation.”

Jack laughed and threw an arm around his soulmate’s shoulder as they both stood to move to the living room. “Bold of you to assume I won’t be cryin’ my damn eyes out whenever Joe and Clarisse are in the same room.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the first draft of this went really, REALLY, dark and rather out of character for Jack. Hopefully I've pulled it back enough and y'all will enjoy the chapter.

Mac and Jack spent about two weeks bumming around Los Angeles. Visiting all the blond’s old haunts, bothering Bozer at work and in general avoiding finding a life.

Until life found them.

Jack very nearly had a heart attack on the spot when he saw Patricia Thornton, spy master extraordinaire, standing next to the fire pit with a calculating smile on her lips.

She had offered the pair of them a job. A job helping people who couldn't be helped by anyone else. A job stopping evil that couldn't be stopped by normal people. A very special partnership between the two of them. Mac’s brains to Jack’s brawn.

Jack wished he could have thrown her out right on her ass then and there for even thinking of drawing Mac into the hellish world of espionage. But one look at the stars in his soulmate’s eyes and he knew. It was one of the reasons he loved Mac so damn much. The blond ran straight towards danger without a second thought if the first had been that he could save someone.

So Jack had nodded and quietly murmured. “I got your back.”

And they were off. 

There were a few things Jack had put his foot down on. Proper training before anyone even considered sending Mac out into the field, was one.

Spending three weeks in the gym tossing, pinning and in general having his body pressed against the squirming blond was the sweetest kind of torture that Jack had ever had to endure. Finally getting pinned by his soulmate marked the end of their training and the beginning of a new kink the Texan would be seeing again in his dreams very soon.

Once Mac’s clandestine training was complete, there really isn't anything for Jack to use to stop them from being handed their first mission.

Said mission was fairly simple but came with one very large caveat.

A field analyst by the name of Nikki.

From the first moment the female agent and Mac had caught each other's eyes, it was over. From the full body sweep of her eyes and the cocky half grin that split across his face, Jack knew.

Mac would fall in love. With someone else.

It hurt. It hurt like hell. But this was what Jack had promised himself he would do; let Mac choose. So he kept his mouth shut and excused himself to let the geeks get to know each other. 

The mission was a complete success. Jack punching drug runners left and right. Mac freeing the hostages by cutting through inch thick steel with nothing but a racing bike and prosciutto. Nikki hacking her way into the servers, downloading the data they needed and erasing the rest.

Mission after mission they beat all odds and came back grinning, soot smudge, and victorious.

Cairo was supposed to be more of the same. They made it out, but no one was smiling on the plane ride home. Jack’s hands just couldn't seem to stop shaking as a medic carefully redressed the bullet grazes he had gotten while Mac pulled another miracle out of his ass and disarmed the bomb.

Said blond genius was staring straight ahead as he twisted paper clip after paper clip. Nikki was next to him, her hand on his thigh as she looked out the window. 

“All in favor of never goin’ back to Cairo?” Jack mumbled as the medic left him.

Mac and Nikki slowly raised their hands.

After debrief, during which Jack told Thornton exactly where she could shove it if the name of the accursed city was ever mentioned again, and being cleared by medical the old soldier wanted nothing more then to grab his soulmate and pretend that the world of spies didn't exist. Bozer, beers and burgers were just what the doctor ordered in his opinion.

What Jack found instead was the closed door of Nikki’s office and the heated moans coming from within. Flinching as he heard Nikki gasp out Mac’s name, he ran. Ran out of the building, hot wiring a company motorcycle and driving until his vision blurred enough that the road disappeared entirely. Stopping and yanking off his helmet, Jack found himself in the middle of the desert with dark clouds swirling above him and not another living soul in sight. As the first rain drops hit his cheek the old soldier broke down.

Long, low, drawn out sobs were lost in the sounds of the storm but echoed in Jack’s ears until he was clutching at his head. Sliding of the bike and onto the ground, he leaned his back against the still warm motor and closed his eyes for a moment, picking out the feeling of hot tears and cold rain streaming down his cheeks.

Opening his eyes, Jack tugged his leather cuff off to show the world the small silver lines that were tearing his heart apart. He stared at them through his tears, absently imagining them tearing, breaking, being ripped away from his skin. Blood flowing down his arm as he was set free from his prison of slim silver lines.

The sound of Mac’s Bill Nye the Science Guy ringtone made Jack nearly jump out of his skin.

“The hell am I doin’?” Jack muttered, retreating from that dark hollow place in his head that he had fallen into and carefully poking at it. The tone ended and he slowly drug the phone out with shaking hands.

The tone starting again made Jack flinch and drop the phone. Mac’s goofy contact photo of that one Snapchat filter with the dog ears stared up at the old soldier. Guilt at his dark thoughts made the Texan quickly flip his phone face down and pull his legs up to try and hide from his friend. His friend who would be devastated that Jack had thought about hurting himself.

“This ain’t you,” Jack whispered as he clutched at his knees tighter. “Get it together man, this ain't you!”

The phone fell silent for a moment then let out the soft beep of a text message.

Jack waited until his hands had stopped shaking to pick up the phone. Brand new from the DXS geek squad, after his old one had been turned into an impromptu saw, and already showing signs of water damage. He had missed three calls from Bozer and a total of eight from Mac. The former had sent him a bunch of made up code words and maydays, while the latter had kept his prodding minimal.

Mac: You ok? Miller said he saw you run out.

Letting out a quiet breath, Jack shielded his phone from the rain and typed out a plausible response.

Jack: Yeah, went to see my Dad.

Mac: Oh, well if you feel up to it I talked Bozer into making Macaroni Béchamel and Fattah.

That was almost enough to make Jack smile. He had been gripping the entire mission about not getting to eat any of his favorite Egyptian foods in attempts to keep their spirits up as imminent death grew closer and closer. The thought that Mac had not only taken him seriously but gone out of the way to convince Chef Boze to make the foods Jack had been craving, helped push back the darkness, if only slightly.

Would he do the same for Nikki?

Jack didn't know, didn't care to ask either.

Jack: Hell yeah man! 🤩😉😁🤘😝🤘

Sliding his phone back into his pocket, the old soldier looked up at the roiling black clouds that continued to rain down on him. Slowly he put his walls back up, boxed up what needed to be boxed up and threw a mental blanket over the black pit inside his heart that whispered things no one needed to hear.

“You got this,” he whispered to no one in particular and shoved himself back to his feet and swung a leg over his bike.

Jack cursed himself a moment later and got back off to hot wire the damn thing again.

Fortunately, once he got out of the desert rain the hot evening air rushing past him managed to dry his clothes and by the time Mac pulled the front door open his eyes had lost their red tinge.

“Thank fuck.” Mac muttered, tugging Jack through the door and toward the kitchen. “Also Bozer is pissed at me and I don’t know why.”

“Why would he make food if he was pissed at you?” Jack wondered aloud as he was shuffled along.

“I'm making food for you, Jack.” Bozer snapped, setting a casserole dish down and whipping off his oven mitts. “Angus gets to play Leftover Roulette and pray he doesn't get the pink clam chowder.”

“Holy shit,” Jack whispered, slipping into the kitchen and snagging a proffered falafel. “You just got Angus-ed.”

Mac waved his arms about and opened his mouth to complain.

“There he is.” Nikki purred, sashaying in from the porch. “We were wondering where you’d got to, Jack.”

Jack swallowed hard as the agent slipped her arm around Mac and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yeah well, shit happens.”

Neither blond seemed to hear him and after giggling into each others mouths for a moment they walked back out of the room.

“Just say the word man, I’ll food poison the shit out of them,” Bozer muttered darkly.

Letting out a surprised laugh, Jack shook his head and felt the weight in his chest lighten slightly. “Nah man, if she can make him happy then I’ll… I’ll find a way to be happy for them. So don't go punishin’ Angus just cause I gave him a choice.”

Starting slightly at the loud laughter from the porch, the Texan blinked hard. “But uh, hypothetically if I weren't fine…”

Bozer gave him a sad little smile and turned to dig around in the junk drawer. He turned back after a moment of rummaging and handed Jack a battered business card. “Talking to her really helped me,” he murmured and began cutting the cooled baklava. “You know, I never thought I’d say this, but my brother so doesn't deserve you.”

-

Life went on after Cairo, mission after mission. 

Then Nikki died.

Jack found a whole new depth of pain that night. The pain of waking up and finding Mac soaking wet, bleeding out and sobbing Nikki’s name. The pain of watching Mac be in pain. The pain of seeing him cry himself to sleep the first week he spent in the hospital recovering from the bullet wound that Jack should have prevented. Crying over the loss that Jack should have prevented. Crying when he was alone, doing his best to make sure that Jack could never see his tears, only hear them through the closed hospital door.

The second week, Mac had been sent home with his arm in a sling, a lab explosion cover story and strict orders to take it easy.

Jack had followed the blond home and set up camp to make sure said orders were followed. His help was not appreciated.

“I told you I’m fine.” Mac snapped as he tried to wipe at the stain spilled down the front of his shirt after he had stubbornly tired to eat soup one handed.

“Never said you weren't.” Jack said coolly, still holding out one of his precious Metallica t-shirts.

The blond gave a very pointed glare towards the treasured t-shirt.

Jack kept his voice neutral as he spoke. “For your edifination-”

“Edification.” Mac grumpily corrected.

“Neither Boze nor I have done laundry in two weeks and this is the only clean shirt in the entire house.” Jack, continued, lying through his teeth and trying to keep his face as straight as possible.

Mac put up a fight but eventually snatched the shirt out of Jack’s hands and stormed off yelling over his shoulder before slamming his bedroom door. “Just go home already!”

Letting out a tired sigh, Jack slowly nodded to the empty room. “Ok,” he murmured, picking up his car keys from the bowl by the front door. He paused half way out the door and looked back. “Ok,” he whispered and closed the door behind him.

Jack didn't sleep that night, or the next, or the next. And as it turned out, neither did Mac.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what else to do.” Bozer whispered as he let Jack in the front door.

“You did the right thing.” Jack murmured, hurrying through the house to the deck.

Mac was curled up on the floor, wearing Jack’s Metallica t-shirt, wrapped in a blanket and staring wide eyed at the fire pit.

The older man was cautious as he approached, making sure Mac heard and saw him before reaching down to touch his uninjured shoulder. “You need to sleep,” he murmured, gently squeezing his friend’s shoulder and trying to keep his voice light.

The blond shook his head, eyes never wavering from the fire. “Don’t want to see it again.”

Jack took a moment to tell himself to get it the fuck together. Only one of them could fall apart at a time, they had learned that the hard way back in the sandbox, and Mac needed him to keep it together.

“Hey,” the Texan murmured, thickening his accent like he always did to calm his soulmate’s nerves. “Come on.”

Pulling the blond close, Jack held him tight for a moment before slipping his arm beneath his bent legs and lifting Mac up to carry him back to bed. Setting his soulmate on his bed, the older soldier paused for a moment to toe off his boots before climbing in as well and snuggling down. With Mac settling in against his chest, Jack tapped a few times on his phone until soft classic rock, the kind the blond loved, began to play.

They lay together for a few songs, not speaking, not sleeping. As I Shall Be Released faded out and the first few bars of I Am The Highway filling the room, Mac finally spoke. “Hey Jack?”

Jack hummed, stroking his fingers down the blond’s spine in time with the singer's voice.

“What are the three things that are never going to change?” Mac asked.

With a soft sigh, Jack smiled. “That Texas is the greatest place on earth, real men cry, and I got your back.”

As the familiar warmth at the conviction in his friend’s voice spread out from the center of his back all the way down to the tips of his fingers and toes, Mac felt what little hold he had over his emotions slip away. He blinked a couple of times, lips beginning to quiver, before finally breaking down. He buried his face into Jack’s chest and sobbed until his throat was raw and he had no more tears left to give. Mac drifted off to the faint beat of his partner’s heart and quiet vibrations of him singing along to Yesterday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chatting with the Void on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/KnockoutRambles)  
> 


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